I watched in shock as an elven lady in a yellow summer dress swept in through the snow outside; as if she owned the place.
She was followed by a group of ladies dressed far too finely to be in this part of town.
Sunflower made her way to Vaarg, but I wasn’t able to pay attention to what was said, as the procession continued.
Uninterrupted.
The store groaned in annoyance and expanded the entryway, as well as the floor space.
A sentiment I shared.
I jumped when I noticed It beside me.
“It… what. What is going on?” I spluttered.
He stared at the incoming horde, each of whom stopped and bowed to Vaarg before proceeding to enter the store proper.
And the ballroom floor the store had grown.
“Beeg, our Store Manager is throwing a party,” he monotoned. “Go and greet our guests.”
With that, he sauntered off, hands behind his back.
Ah, I realized. I have died. I must have died back when I was abducted. This has all been a dream, I nodded to myself.
Then jumped when I looked down to see a familiar face standing before me.
I stood awkwardly as Karla the Kobold squinted up at me.
“Well now, it’s right fine to see ya again” she yipped.
“Haven’t seen ya since yous got the cleanin’ supplies. My, yer even taller than I remember,” she nodded.
I smiled softly —
“Nearly scared me to death the first night he was in with his team, “procuring” all my stuff,” she laughed, the others around her joining in.
My smile froze, something between a grimace and… well I have no idea.
“Dontcha be worryin, dear,” she patted my arm. “Yous at least buy stuff as well — the rest of this miscreants team — “
At this, she pointed to Vaarg, who grumbled and ignored her.
“Should learn to do the same,” she finished, with a nod.
“It,” I whispered through the side of my mouth.
But It wasn’t there.
“Stup — “
Stupid wasn’t there either.
Neither was Ugly.
I didn’t even hear the cloaks.
I… I was alone in a ridiculously vast dusty store ballroom, surrounded by guests I was expected to entertain?!
I looked across the room, to where Vaarg was eyeing me over his clipboard.
The eye said it all.
Don’t mess up, Beeg.
____
Today was a very bad day. A very bad day indeed, thought Lord Tiqaro as he bustled through the slush on the streets, hurrying to make it to a last minute party in the most Ancients-Forsaken part of the city.
He has spent a fortune to use a portal to get him here fast enough. It would take months to recoup the loss.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
But it was Him who was throwing the party.
No one would dare miss it.
He glanced around himself to the other miserable nobles hustling through the disgusting filth known as the Non-Human Quarter.
And to make matters worse? He was going to have to see that boy again.
Beeg.
There was something off about that one. Last time he had seen him, his face had moved not once.
What if the boy had held a grudge?
And now? They were going to a party hosted by the boy.
The shock that rippled through the city when Lord Itzemus Puro, the legend himself, surfaced out of nowhere and casually stated Beeg, Warlock of Vaarg, was throwing a party for Stupid.
What even was a Stupid?
So here he was. Rushing through the snow with a gift that would hopefully be fitting for whatever “Stupid” was.
He smiled in commiseration as an elfin lady stepped in a pile of what he hoped was mud. When she noticed he was human, she sniffed at him as if he was the pile of… mud.
”Snooty Elves,” he grumbled.
Then he sighed. How was he supposed to know the “delivery boy” was important.
This was a very bad day indeed.
____
Tiqaro stared at the nonsense before him in absolute incredulity.
They were going to a store!?
A tiny, dingy, pathetic store not even 12 feet high with but a single door, half the nobility lined up outside while small non-human children watched from their hovels.
But it wasn’t just nobles. They were accepting goblins, kobolds and all manner of other unsavory types.
Into the same place the nobility were gathering.
This is where the party is?!
And still, people kept filing in.
Tiqaro blinked… then his eyes bulged.
There were two goblins on either side of the door.
Demanding payment for entry.
Only from the nobles.
And the nobles were scrambling to procure whatever they had to give.
And through it all everyone maintained a pleasant smile.
He had been absent for a long time.
If even half the tales from his childhood were true…
”How dare you deny my entry!” A voice shrilled imperiously. Tiqaro glanced up to see the Elven snob from earlier being turned away from being “too dirty.”
While a Kobold that was scratching off fleas was admitted.
Tiqaro grit his teeth and increased his bribe amount from 2 to 5 gold pieces.
____
Five minutes later and 100 gold coins lighter, Tiqaro fumed as he walked through the door.
The bribe had cost him almost as much as the portal!
He paused as he looked up, his jaw dropping.
They were in a medieval ballroom.
The place was utterly massive.
The ceiling disappeared above them while hundreds of guests milled about the floor.
He looked behind him to see the same tiny door admitting a new guest, the same look of bewilderment mirrored on his face.
Spiraled pillars decorated with painstaking reliefs stood proudly at attention. Magical candelabra of every color and shade graced the room. The floor shined of finest mahogany — the cost alone utterly impossible for anyone but the King himself.
Spacial enhancements were one thing. This?
What did this even count as?
Tiqaro gulped.
Thank goodness he hadn’t been foolish enough to decline the invitation.
____
“What are you doing,” I hissed, tapping the floor as the store yet again expanded, making itself even more grand.
I got the distinct impression it thought my discomfort was hilarious. Which was the only reason it was going overboard.
Even Vaarg was glancing at the walls and ceiling every few minutes.
And I was still rooted to the same platform.
Yes.
Platform.
I frowned. The floor seemed rather far away.
… Had the store slowly been lifting the platform higher?
I shifted uncomfortably, the sweat pouring down my back.
I didn’t do well with crowds. And I didn’t do well with nobility.
Thank the Ancients I had my cloak else everyone would see my one good leg shaking like the wind.
I swallowed, not trusting myself to speak and nodded to each guest that walked past.
____
He was there.
Seated behind what looked like a… store counter and scowling around a… clipboard.
Tiqaro bowed in greeting and hurried on.
He didn’t acknowledge me, Tiqaro swallowed.
Good. Very good.
Then he glanced up and saw the Warlock.
Standing upon a 7 foot dais, hooded cloak wrapped close as he watched the crowd in silence.
Each guest took a moment to greet and introduce themselves, before walking on.
Never once did he respond.
Never once did he move.
Staring silently through one eye.
Tiqaro desperately tried to wet his dry mouth. When that failed, he shakily stepped forward.
“L — Lord Tiqaro,” he spoke with false bravado, cursing himself for the stammer.
The Warlock stared at him.
Then his one good eye narrowed in recognition.
Tiqaro paled.
He gasped as the entire building shook, lights dimming instantly as the Warlock regarded him.
Somewhere in the distance, two whispery voices screamed.
“We are all going to die!”
The floor creaked beneath him, every guest in the hall frozen in terror.
It’s… it’s over for me, he gasped, the air crushing the life from his chest —
“Beeg!” a tiny voice cried out.
The air lightened as the Warlock looked up.
There, in the distance, was a tiny Goblin girl in a powder-blue dress, flanked by a menagerie of goblins.
The Warlock tapped his leg.
The platform lowered.
The lights brightened
The walls unfolded.
The building creaked.
“Stupid!” the Warlock cried, “Happy Birthday!”
Tiqaro’s jaw dropped.
That was Stupid?
